


Blink, Blink.

by shewhoisntnamed44



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andreil, M/M, Nightmares, Nora sakavic, the foxhole court - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 21:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12756693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewhoisntnamed44/pseuds/shewhoisntnamed44
Summary: "This is what it's always going to be like. For the rest of my life. This constant thread of nightmares I can't wake up from, demons I can't escape."OrNeil has a nightmare.





	Blink, Blink.

_Blink_.  
The clock reads 2:49 am. His house is on fire. He is on fire. It is scorching him, inside out. It is seeping into his bones, his hair, his eyes, his mout-  
_Blink_.  
He was handcuffed to the bed. Riko looked like a devil in disguise as he carved a number onto Neil's face like a painter finishing his masterpiece.  
_Blink_.  
He was covered in blood. He looked around the Foxhole Court. All of his Foxes lay dead on the field.  
_Blink_.  
He was outside a locked door. He pushed it open. His heart ripped out of his chest when he saw Drake on the bed and Andrew _was Andre-_  
_Blink_.  
Mary was in front of him. Her hold on his hand was so tight he was sure it would bruise. The sound of gunshots moved their legs even faster. Mary stopped, bucked, her blood splattering all over him as a bullet hit her chest.  
_Blink_.  
He couldn't move, Lola held his right arm in a tight grip while Patrick and Romeo held the rest of his body so firmly he couldn't shift even an inch. Nathan Wesninski stood above him, his mouth curled in a terrible, _terrible_ smile. He raised his axe and brought it down on Neil's hand. Again.

Someone was saying his name.  
"Neil."  
An answer, not a question.  
His eyes jerk open, his lungs empty of air.  
"Neil.", Andrew says again.  
"Look at me."  
But he can't. He can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything except relive his demons again and again and again. Neil sits up, his side of the bed drenched in sweat.  
He holds his hands in his head, clamping his eyes shut. His throat is tight with so many emotions and his lungs still refuse to inhale.  
"Breathe.", Andrew say, his voice an anchor in the torrent of torment he's drowning into.  
His first mouthful of air is tearing his lungs apart, slowly, slowly shedding his interiors into confetti. Everything hurts.

A hand on his back.  
"Talk to me."  
Neil doesn't say a word. Did he mention he can't?  
He hears the bedsheets ruffling, a weight lifting off the bed. Andrew's in front of him, taller than him for once.  
"Stop this.", he says, but Neil still hasn't opened his eyes.  
A hand touches the back of his neck, pulling his face closer, and Neil forces his eyes open.  
Blonde hair, messed up so badly it looks like he's been electrocuted. Eyes which have saved him over and over again. The hand on his neck, knuckles slightly dented after punching so many things. Andrew.

Andrew touches his forehead to Neil's and expels a breath, his other hand threading through Neil's fingers.  
"You're alright, Neil Josten."  
And Neil unwinds. Like a coiled thread, a trigger pulled, Neil let's himself loose, his shoulders shaking with the effort it takes not to cry.  
"You're all dead. Nathaniel is trying to chop my hand off. And Drake, Drake is still alive."  
A crazed laugh ecapes him and Andrew's grip on his hand tightens.  
"This is what it's always going to be like. For the rest of my life. This constant thread of nightmares I can't wake up from, demons I can't escape."  
"I've told you to go see Betsy."  
Neil shakes his head and Andrew crouches down in front of him.  
"I'm fixing an appointment with her for you tomorrow. I will personally drag your ass to her office."  
Andrew's lips ghost across his forehead and Neil's eyes shut again. Andrew stands up. The covers ruffle again as he settles beneath the blankets.  
Neil feels himself being tugged at his shirt, soaked in sweat. Neil pulls it off, like he's getting rid of a plague, and throws it in the corner of their room.

He's lying down back in bed, face turned away from Andrew, staring at nothing.  
And then there is an arm slipping under his head, and another on his stomach, fingers spreading over his abdomen. Andrew's legs are intertwining with Neil's.  
He feels Andrew's cool breath on the back of his neck, like cigarette smoke but not.

"Nathaniel Wesninski is dead. Riko Moriyama is dead. _You're_ _not_. You won, Neil Josten. You're always going to be a Fox. You're always going to have those losers at your back. And I promise, _promise_ to let you be an annoyance in my life till the day we're both in our graves."  
"I don't think you'll survive that long.", Neil replies, voice broken, but strong.  
"Don't test me, junkie."  
"I thought you liked challenges."  
"Shut up."  
And Neil does, as he closes his eyes, shutting out the rest of the world, only aware, caring for nothing but the hand on his stomach and the breath on his neck.

 


End file.
